


wounds tend to linger

by WonderstruckSwan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, if this gets too bashy i promise it's not my intention, small curious archer, sort of canon fixing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 07:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16445111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderstruckSwan/pseuds/WonderstruckSwan
Summary: Rogers thought all their issues were resolved with the death of Gothel and that now he and Alice could enjoy their happy ending.Turns out the past isn't easy to outrun.





	wounds tend to linger

**Author's Note:**

> So this is partially me resolving some of my own issues in canon and partially based on a discussion I had with @calibaz about whether Alice might have some resentment for WHook getting his heart poisoned and leaving her alone. I am pretty nervous about posting this but the prompt was too interesting for me to ignore.  
> Also, anyone get the reference I made with the title? Huh? Huuuhhh?

The house is completely dark when Rogers returns, which is odd. He’s fallen into the routine of going out early on Saturdays before Alice is awake to do the shopping and when he returns, she is up and about with a pot of coffee brewing. Today though, the kitchen light is off and when he steps in, the house is eerily silent.

What’s more odd, in fact it is a step above odd, is that she is in the kitchen, still in her pyjamas, but instead of making coffee and singing under the kitchen lights like she always is, she’s sitting cross legged on the table with the light off. With the natural light coming in from the window, Rogers can just about see her flicking a pen between her fingers and if he strains, he can hear the muffled sobs that make his heart clench.

“Alice?” he whispers as he creeps closer. He turns the light on and she doesn’t even move; her face nearly blank, looking at something that isn’t there. He thought her bad days would be gone for good with the curse broken and Gothel gone, apparently not. “Alice what’s the matter?” When he puts his hand on her knee, he tenses, expecting her to startle, but she just lifts her head slightly to look at her.

“You’re back,” she states.

“Yes.”

“You came back,” she continues. “You came home.” All at once, it dawns on Rogers. Yes the curse might be broken and Gothel gone, but the wounds the witch made still linger and take its toll on Alice. Ever since he was cast away from her he imagined her sitting at the tower window, waiting for him to come back, and that doesn’t just disappear. So he smiles gently and cups her cheek, making her look at him.

“I came home,” he whispers. “And I will always, always come home to you.”

Contrary to what he both expected and wanted, Alice’s eyes harden, her mouth turns downwards, she shakes her head.

“No,” she tells him, the tiniest hint of venom in her voice. “Not always. Not when it really mattered.”

“Alice, what’s this about?” he asks.

“I found the storybook,” she says and gives a mad sounding laugh. “Henry’s storybook. The new one, with our story in it. And do you know what I found in it, Papa? Do you know what I read in our story?” Rogers’ throat runs dry as a million thoughts fly through his head. “I found the day you left me. Tried to get Maui’s hook to free me. Then stopped because you wanted to fight a duel. You left me alone for hours to protect your honour, your stupid reputation. Left me alone going out of my mind with worry all because someone bruised your precious ego!” The pen flies out of her hand and clatters against the wall.

Her words hit him like Ahab’s bullet did. Of all the things he’s done that he’s not proud of, this ranks high on the list.

“Alice that was years ago,” he reminds her. “Why bring up the past now, when everything is so good?”

“Because it’s not good,” she says. “Because it can’t be good when you did that. You’re not meant to do that!” She jumps off the table and steps towards him, such power in her slight frame he backs up. “You’re not meant to be the one who leaves me, you’re meant to be the one who stays! Not the one who left and never said anything to me for years and years!”

“That’s not fair,” he counters. “My heart was poisoned, Alice, what did you want me to do? I spent years looking for a cure! I couldn’t be anywhere near you!”

“I know!” she sobs. “But you could be near me. We couldn’t touch but you could be near me. You were near me so many times. You could have written to me, shouted to me, done anything to make me feel like you still cared! Instead you just sailed around the world and did everything you wanted now that I wasn’t there to tie you down!”

“Alice it wasn’t like that!”

“How do I know that?” she asks. “I never heard a word from you for years. You know after I got out of the tower, sometimes I’d wait by the ruin. Wait for days, hoping you’d show up. Hoping you at least cared enough to come back and see if I was okay but the joke’s on me isn’t it? I got out and heard about Captain Hook drinking in taverns and trying to steal another man’s wife and I thought ‘no, not my Papa. They’re talking about a different Hook’. The I read the bloody storybook and every damn word they said about you was true.” She’s close to hyperventilating, tears streaming down her face. She could end up in a full blown panic attack if this doesn’t wind down.

“Alice calm down,” he tells her.

“No I won’t calm down!” she says, sounding like a child. “Did you know that the other you has a daughter too? And he’s never made her feel like he didn’t love her or made her feel alone, so maybe I should live with him and not you!”

It’s like his heart is poisoned again. The words hang in the air between them and from the look on Alice’s face, she doesn’t regret them one bit. She wears her heart on her sleeve. She meant every word she just said.

She doesn’t say anything else. She just shakes her head at him, gasps a little bit and heads for the door. Rogers doesn’t try to stop her, partially because he’s not sure what’s going on is real. Not until he hears the door slam so loudly that he walls shake and then he wakes up and jerks into action. He races to the door and opens it, only to catch a glimpse of her coat as she runs down the street. He could of course run after her and take her back to the house and talk to her until she calms down and sees sense.

Instead he stands in the doorway, his stomach ice cold, his head reeling, and his heart broken.

                                                                                              

* * *

 

One of the best things about Robin is that she doesn’t ask questions when she knows she shouldn’t, rather the opposite of Alice in that regard. So when Alice appears at her door with tear tracks and her cheeks, bitten nails and lost looking eyes, Robin just nods and lets her in. She makes her tea, and a cup for herself, and they sit on the sofa together and turn on the TV and watch some singing contest that neither one of them could care less about, but it numbs Alice’s brain for a while.

Her phones makes a noise after a while and the screen lights up. As much as she doesn’t want to; she opens it to see a text from her father-‘where are you?’. Five minutes go by and other one-‘We need to talk about this.’ ‘Please come home, Alice.’ ‘Just tell me if you’re okay at least.’

She plans to ignore them all night long, but they keep coming in, some of them at five minute intervals, some in a chain of short, sharp pings until she cannot take it anymore. She opens her phone and types out her reply; ‘I’m fine, I’m with Robin, don’t come to get me. I want to be away from you for a bit’. She feels guilty, knowing how cruel her message sounds, but part of her also doesn’t care.

Robin is looking at her, not at the phone but at her, her expression concerned.

“Can I stay over?” she asks.

“Of course,” Robin answers. The other good thing is that she doesn’t have to go home to get her things; she’s stayed at Robin’s so many times that there’s her pyjamas, underwear and a toothbrush on standby in case movie nights go on too long and become movie mornings. Robin toys with one of the bracelets on her wrist.

“Papa and I had a fight,” she mumbles. Robin’s hand moves to her shoulder and rubs soft circles on it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“In that case,” Robin says. “There’s at least three of these dumb reality shows and a day’s supply of chips in the kitchen.”

“Your version of a day’s supply or mine?” she asks. When Robin laughs, she smiles for the first time that day. She watches reality shows with Robin and eats whatever Robin makes and lets all that business go to the back of her mind. For as much as she can allow at least.

                                                                                         

* * *

 

Robin is still asleep when she wakes up. When Alice pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear she doesn’t even flinch. So Alice crawls her a quick note telling her where she’s going and puts it on the pillow, gets dressed and heads out the door.

She heads to the bakery and orders two coffees, one black for Robin, one cappuccino for her, and a chocolate éclair, Robin’s favourite. She’s tempted by the triple chocolate cupcakes on the display, but this is for Robin. She deserves a treat for last night.

As she waits for the barista to finish her order, the bell rings and another customer comes in, the only other one to be at the bakery this early.

“Morning, Hook,” the barista greets and Alice freezes before logic clicks in and she can breathe. In this town, her dad isn’t “Hook” or “Killian” to pretty much anyone, just “Rogers”. He doesn’t mind, it’s less confusion for everyone involved.

The Storybrooke version of her father stands at the counter with a broad but tired grin on his face and his baby girl sitting in a papoose on his chest.

“The usual?” the barista asks.

“Aye please,” he responds before he turns and sees Alice and his face grows brighter. “Morning Alice how are you?”

“Fine,” she responds, trying to keep her voice sounding as normal as possible. Hope gurgles and reaches out to her, and Alice… She isn’t made of stone. “Hello gorgeous, how are you today?” She steps forwards and lets Hope take hold of her finger in her fist before she lets it go and reaches for Alice’s necklace.

“Yeah, you might want to keep a distance,” Hook says with a laugh. “She’s in that mode where she likes all the shiny things and decides they’re hers.” He looks down at the baby, expression full of love and happiness and… Loyalty. “Aren’t you, my little magpie? You’re just a pirate like Daddy aren’t you?” He kisses her little head and rubs his nose against her hair, apparently not caring about anyone seeing him. Like he and Hope are the only two people in the bakery.

“You love Hope don’t you?” Alice asks before she can stop herself, running her fingers over Hope’s hair.

“Of course I do,” he answers, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“More than anyone else?” she asks before he can ask what’s wrong.

“Well, not more than anyone,” he admits. “She sits in her own little bubble with Emma and Henry and my brother and Milah.” Hope gurgles and takes his finger like she’s saying thank you. “But yes, I love her so much. I’d do anything for her, if that’s what you’re asking. Alice what-”

“And what if someone separated you from her?” she asks as tears prick her eyes, not sure if she wants the answer. “And you couldn’t see her, what would you do then?”

“I’d tear down every kingdom until I found her again,” he says. Alice sees realisation dawn on his face and she feels bad for dragging him into her issues. But she doesn’t stop.

“But you’d let her know you love her?” she asks. “You wouldn’t just let her think you didn’t?” She’s shaking now, her heart feels like it’s going to burst and she’s worried about throwing up in the middle of the bakery.

“Never,” he says. “Alice, is everything okay?”

Instead of just answering, Alice does what she’s been doing since yesterday. She runs. She runs out the door without her purchases and down the street until she finds some big rubbish bins she can hide behind and just breathe. She puts her head on her knees and lets herself cry miserably, wishing she’d never found that damn storybook.

“Alice?” she hears after some time, she doesn’t know how long. “Alice, love, are you okay?” She stays silent, hoping he has the sense to go away. “Alice unless the skips now where combat boots, I know that’s you.”

She decides to admit defeat and stand up and climb over the skip and sit on top of the lid. She ends up being greeted with the sight of a slightly-horrified looking Hook who still has Hope perched on his chest.

“Your father may not have his heart poisoned anymore,” he says. “But you are still liable to give him a heart attack with those antics.” Alice gives a small shrug and taps her feet against the skip. Hook raised an eyebrow and took a careful step towards her. “You’re not okay, are you love?”

“Not really,” she admits. She feels everything she’s held back since yesterday morning begin to pile up inside her. Cracks forming slowly and she knows she’ll break soon.

“I know I’m not your dad but is there anything I can do to help?” he asks. She lets the tears fall then as she loses the strength to hold it together. “Oh, sweetheart.” Hook reaches up and dries her tears for her, the exact same way her own father used to do for her.

“Papa and I had a fight,” she admits. He doesn’t react, she guesses because he doesn’t know how to, but he keeps wiping her tears and stroking her back. “How much did he tell you about me? About why he couldn’t be around me?”

“He said that a witch kept you locked in the tower, and that she poisoned his heart,” he replies softly. “So that he could never save you.”

“Did he tell you why his heart was poisoned?”

“Because she discovered him in the tower with you.” She shook her head violently, trying to clear it of all the bad thoughts inside her, trying to get them in order. “Love be careful you’ll hurt yourself.”

“He didn’t tell you the whole truth,” she sighs. “Gothel poisoned him because he fought a duel. He left me waiting for him to go fight a bloody duel!” The tears come harder, faster now, snot dribbles out of her nose and breathing gets harder. “He thought fighting was more important than me!”

“I’m sure he didn’t think that, Alice,” he whispers. “Come love, let’s get you down off this.” He takes her hand and helps her off the skip, muttering a soft ‘there we go’ when she hits the ground. “Alice, I think you might need to talk to your dad about this.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Well, I think there might be a bit more to the story,” he said. “Maybe he deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Alice shakes her head, not wanting to think that. Petty as it is, she wants to sit in her anger.

“You know he never once came back for me?” she asks. “He never even wrote me a letter until I sent him one first. He never even tried to check if I was all right he just left.”

“Alice, I’m not for a moment going to pretend that I know what your father thought all that time,” he says. “But as a Killian Jones, I do think this sounds like a classic Killian Jones mistake. Running away from your mistake because you were too ashamed to face it.”

“You think he was ashamed?” she asks. She realises that in all her anger, she never really looked at him when she confronted him.

“I do.”

“But it doesn’t change things. Doesn’t change the fact that he left me alone for years,” she reminds him and he only nods.

“I know, love, I know, but don’t you think he might deserve a second chance? Don’t you owe it to yourself?”

His words unlock something in her; she was expecting him to tell her she owes it to him. Owing it to herself is another matter and one she hasn’t considered.

“How’d you mean?” she asks.

“You love your father; don’t you owe it to yourself to try to hear him out before you shut him out completely?” he asks. “Take it from me, holding on to grudges it hard. Save it for the people who really deserve it.” That gets a giggle out of Alice at least.

“Will you come with me if I do?” she asks. He might not be her true father, but she feels close to him. And there’s also the added bonus of the fact that he’s good with words where she is less so, which might come in handy.

“Of course,” he says with a caring smile. “Let’s just get your coffee and cupcake and…” He puts a hand in the papoose, underneath Hope. “Maybe stop to change a nappy first.”

                                                                                             

* * *

 

And that is how Killian ends up at the doorstep of his alternate self-his daughter gurgling happy on his chest and playing with his shirt, his not-daughter picking her nails anxiously while waiting at the door.

“Be careful, love, you might hurt yourself doing that,” he says without thought. “It’s a hard habit to break.” Alice nods, but doesn’t take her eyes off the door.

When it opens, Killian sees his alternate self nearly collapse with relief at the sight of Alice. He understands even if people think he can’t yet. He remembers fretting endlessly the first few months Henry in the Enchanted Forest and even younger when he was out at parties. And then there’s Hope, who has turned his world upside down, who he’d move mountains for. She doesn’t have to go missing for him to know how he’d react.

He goes to hug her and Alice immediately steps back. His heart goes out to both of them.

His alternate self looks at him, a small hint of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you for bringing her home,” he says.

“I want to talk,” Alice tells him. “I’m ready to. But I want him to come in too.” She shrugs. “Conflict mediation.”

Rogers lets him in without resistance, even setting up a space Hope to play on the mat. Alice retrieves a rather sad but still charming looking teddy bear from her bedroom and sets it on the floor, smiling as Hope immediately becomes enchanted with it. Killian wonders if he’ll ever tire of Hope’s squeals of happiness, her near-toothless smile. He hopes he doesn’t. Alice gets up and creeps silently to the table, looking from him to her father nervously.

“Alice… I know I was wrong to duel Ahab,” he begins. “I should have come straight home to you.”

“Yes, you should have,” she says. Killian finds himself surprised at the fire in the girl known for her big smiles and bright eyes. “But that isn’t why I’m upset. Well it is but it isn’t.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. Look Al, the truth is-” The words get caught on his throat and to everyone’s surprise, he turns to Killian himself for guidance. Killian is confused for a brief moment, considering all the possibilities he has, before realising all he really can do. He nods. He can’t take this fight for Rogers, but he can help him get onto the field. “You’re right, I could have talked to you. It was only when you walked out the door I stupidly realised all the ways I could have spoken to you. I could have stood at the bottom of the tower and shouted. I could have left you letters. Could have asked any of my crew to come in and give you my messages. But it’s too late for all that now.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asks, her voice broken.

“I was…” He looks at Killian again, and Killian repeats the same nod, his heart pounding. He hopes against all hope he does the right thing. “I was weak. And selfish. Every day I thought about how much I missed you. I never stopped to think about you missing me. All I could think about was ending my own pain. I should have thought about easing yours.”

His admission almost makes the room lighter. Killian can see it in Rogers, how it lifts the weight off his shoulders and as for Alice… he hears her breathe.

“And I’m sorry, Starfish,” he continues, beginning to sob. “I’m sorry that I was so blinded by my pain I didn’t think about yours. I wish I had written to you or talked to you or done anything to ease your suffering.”

“Oh, Papa,” Alice says, running over and hugging him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Do you forgive me?”

She doesn’t speak, but she nods against his shoulder, blonde curls bouncing up and down.

Killian senses that it’s a family moment, so he makes to leave, lifting up Hope-who is rather upset at having to be separated from her new toy-and strapping her into the papoose with soothing noises and kisses on the head all while bouncing her gently, hoping to give her the sleep she so clearly needs.

“Hey,” his own voice whispers form across the room. Killian turns to see Rogers looking at him with shining eyes. The two Killian Joneses with their girls on their chests. “Thank you.”


End file.
